black blanket
by cedricsowner
Summary: Written as part of the Christmas Gift Fic Exchange, for SunnyInOregon. Prompts: A Mele Kalikimaka; a kiss; tree decorating; surprise gift. References to S7E6. Now complete. Rossi and Garcia go on a weekend trip.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds and intend no copyright infringement. **

_~ written for SunnyInOregon ~_

"Seriously, babygirl, next time you stay at home!" Derek Morgan wasn't exactly annoyed, how could he be with his Penelope, especially after the heartbreaking support group ordeal she had gone through only recently, but he _was_ a bit put out.

"Derek, I'm sorry, but they were all so perfect…" Penelope tried a tentative "forgive me"-smile. Since she was wearing a coat and hat that vaguely resembled a purple Santa costume, toned down only just enough not to earn her a heart-to-heart talk with Hotch about FBI dress code, how could he not forgive her?

"Where's the tree?" Prentiss and JJ came walking back from the coffee machine. "Didn't you say you'd get us one this afternoon?"

"A big tree that will make the financial department's look like a bonsai? Freshly cut down from the spot by the lake? Felled by Derek Morgan himself?" JJ and Emily flexed their forearms in mock bodybuilding positions.

"No tree…", Derek grumbled.

"It was all my fault!", Penelope quickly interjected. "I just felt so sorry for them – you know, standing there, in the freshly fallen snow, enjoying the smell of the crystal clear air, the birds and squirrels that hop around in their branches… and then out of the blue someone shows up and hacks them down with an axe…"

"I told you, Garcia, that part of the forest by the lake was especially cultivated for Christmas. The trees are all going to be felled." Morgan suppressed an exasperated sigh. He knew his babygirl was a very empathic person, that's what he liked about her so much, but sometimes this particular character trait _could_ get in the way.

"You were feeling sorry for the trees?" Hotch came walking downstairs into the bullpen where Prentiss handed him a cup of coffee. His surprised smile froze a little when he spotted the mini marshmallows floating in his beverage.

_"Marshmallows?"_, said his frowning eyebrows.

_"Try it"_ , said the twinkle in Prentiss' eyes.

"Actually anthropomorphism is a fairly common element in Christmas tradition." Reid looked up from his computer. "There's this story by Hans Christian Andersen, "The Fir Tree", _Far down in the forest, where the warm sun and the fresh air made a sweet resting-place_ _grew a pretty little fir-tree_…"

"Spence!" JJ had recently read the story to Henry and had changed the ending because it had been just too heartbreaking for her little son to hear.

"Maybe we should think about getting a plastic tree this year", Hotch suggested, spooning up the rest of his coffee marshmallow mix. Emily had stirred the sweets into the beverage at just the right moment – they had melted and made the liquid thicker and richer.

"Although, from an emotional standpoint, this seems to be the easiest solution, it is definitely not the most environmental friendly one", Reid chimed in. "Fake trees lead to the emission of more than double the greenhouse gases of a natural one, especially during manufacturing and transportation, but also from the materials used – PVC, steel, sometimes even lead. We would have to keep the tree for 20 years to balance out the 17.8 lbs of CO2 it caused to be emitted, compared to 6.8 lbs for a natural tree."

"What about a potted one?", JJ suggested.

"Strauss issued a memo this morning, reminding every department that potted Christmas trees violate building security regulations." Hotch seemed unsure what to do with his empty coffee cup. Then he saw that Emily's was empty, too, and took it from her to wash them both out in the tea kitchen's sink.

"Well maybe we don't really need a Christmas tree in the office – with a little luck we won't be here anyway, will we?" JJ's attempt to sound extra cheerful was a little too obvious.

"Speaking of… to make sure everybody gets some well-deserved time off during the holidays, there are these … documents … we really need to discuss… Dave, your presence is really not needed for that paperwork, if you want to you can call it a day…"

Only now, as Hotch addressed his friend and co-worker, Penelope became aware that David Rossi was in the bullpen, too. He was sitting at a desk, reading a file. She, and not only she, felt painfully reminded of the day he had been doing research on ALS.

"I'll be gone in a minute, Hotch", Rossi replied, not lifting his eyes off the file.

For a second the team members were hesitant to leave him sitting like that, but the elder profiler's body language made it very clear that he preferred to be left alone. Hotch indicated with a nod that he was expecting everyone in the conference room and they all filed upstairs.

All except Garcia, that is. She was still a little crestfallen at the turmoil she had caused and let herself fall behind. "It's just that…this sounds so silly… but the unsuspecting trees, being hacked down by a stranger… it reminded me of… of victims falling prey to an unsub…" Garcia's voice had grown very quiet as she said that and in the silence that followed her words you could have heard a pin drop. Slowly she started up the stairs to join the others in the conference room.

"Well, I can relate to that."

Garcia stopped and turned around. Rossi, still sitting at that desk, was looking directly at her, locking eyes with her, sad smile on his face.

"I thought after we solved the Galen case you changed your opinion about Christmas trees", Garcia said carefully.

"About Christmas trees, yes. About the act of cutting them down, no." Rossi closed the file he had been reading and nodded in the direction of the conference room. "Paperwork?"

Garcia turned very red very quickly. "Yes, yes, absolutely boring paperwork, nothing interesting, not at all, you can go home, no need to worry about it…"

"They're trying to figure out how to make this Christmas a cheerful experience for me, aren't they?"

Now Penelope looked even more crestfallen. "You so deserve a joyful evening."

"And I will have that. With Mudgie and a good glass of Scotch. At my mansion. _Alone._"

Penelope decided it was not a good moment to inform him that the team's plans for Rossi's Christmas included everything BUT leaving him alone. She tried for a diversion. "What file are you reading?"

"Old case, nothing recent." He weighed it in his hand, as if unsure whether to tell her more or not.

"Unsolved?" Rossi looked so sad, Garcia just knew there was more to this old file.

"Yes and no." He was still weighing the folder in his hand.

Garcia walked over to him, pulled up a chair and sat down. "Why don't you tell me about it?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds and intend no copyright infringement. **

Rossi looked at Garcia for a long moment and realized that she was probably the only person in the whole BAU team he could tell about this issue. Sure, the others would listen sympathetically, too, they'd nod at the right moments, they'd offer their opinions, they would care. But they'd also analyze him, they'd try to figure out why he was coming up with this particular case right now and they'd form some sort of psychological assessment on him.

Thank you very much.

Garcia, on the other hand, she was, for lack of a better word, _innocent_ in this regard. She would really listen, not listen and at the same time try to figure out what his interest in this old file was revealing about his current state of mind.

He wasn't blaming the others for their approach, no. It was the nature of the beast when being a profiler. Hell, he had driven three wives crazy with the habit of analyzing everything! But at the moment he preferred the company of someone who listened with the heart, not with the mind.

"The case in the Angeles National Forest probably triggered this…", Rossi began, carefully studying her reaction.

Garcia's eyes grew wide. It was the case with the unsub that had been buried alive as a teenager and gone through a near death experience.

"If this makes you uncomfortable…"

"No, go on." She sat upright and nodded.

"This here…" he lifted the file in his hands "…was one of the last cases I worked on prior to my retirement. An unsub who drugged his victims and then buried them alive. We spent weeks hunting him down…and when we finally got him, we… well, we found this…" He retrieved about half a dozen black and white shots from the file and spread them out on the desk between them.

Garcia involuntary closed her eyes. She had just seen too much doing this job.

"Don't worry, it's just landscape, no gruesome details."

Indeed, at first glance the photos looked harmless – a spot in the woods, apparently pretty much in the middle of nowhere, fir trees and bushes all around, but it didn't seem to be winter, judging from the leaves on the ground it was probably autumn.

"The mounds here and there, are that…?"

"Graves, yes. Eight young women and men altogether."

Garcia squinted. "But… there's an open grave, isn't there?… Did you manage to save one victim?"

The hopeful note in her voice wasn't lost on Rossi. "Look at this", he said and pushed one particular photo towards her. "Do you see the prints around the hole? And the strange long scratches inside, all along the walls?"

She studied the photo, looked up, studied the photo again… "Oh my God!"

"Someone was buried in that hole and dug himself out."

His vague way of speaking made Garcia frown. "_Someone?_"

"We had to shoot the unsub when we arrived on the scene. He was heavily armed, opened fire immediately. We only discovered the open grave after he was dead."

"But there was no victim?"

"Judging from the traces, he or she ran off during the shootout. It was a highly complicated situation in almost impassable terrain, we couldn't cordon it off properly. Of course we searched the area, for days, but shortly after the pictures were made, a heavy rainstorm came down, washed away anything the dogs could have used as a trail…"

Garcia pressed her left fingertips to her mouth. "No body showed up?"

"No body. Either there's still a skeleton out there or a highly traumatized victim. Just like in the Angeles National Forest case."

And they both new what being buried alive had done to the unsub – a victim himself, he had become a multiple murderer…

"We found blood inside the hole. Well, back then we couldn't do much with it except figuring out the blood type. Nowadays, things would be different, of course, but wasting government funds on a case that's been solved for ages? Don't think Strauss' generous Christmas mood goes that far, not with the big financial review coming up in January…"

"Well, there are ways to work around getting a permission from her…" Garcia let the sentence trail off.

"You could get that DNA without Strauss finding out about it?" Rossi lowered his voice.

"It would require bending the rules a little…" She was positively whispering now. Her skin was tingling in the neck area – they were talking about doing something forbidden. Right here, in FBI headquarters … with Hotch and the others only a few feet away… Garcia couldn't help it, that was exciting.

"As long as nobody knows…"

There was a gleam in Rossi's eyes that hadn't been there before. It made Garcia smile – and a little suspicious. "David Rossi, did you just manipulate me into helping you by appealing to my mischievous side?

He couldn't help but think that she had somehow managed to turn his originally rather gloomy afternoon mood completely around.

"Cara, you know us Italian men. We don't manipulate. We seduce."

... ... ...

A day later, snowflakes were softly tumbling from the sky above Quantico. Inside the FBI building however, other things were tumbling.

"Seriously, Reid, you're sure great at a lot of things, but dancing isn't one of them." Trust Derek Morgan not to mince words.

"But I'm doing exactly what the book says!", Reid protested. "My knees are slightly bend. My legs are shoulder width apart. The toes of my left foot are at a 45-degree angle to the toes of my right foot. I'm swaying my hand towards the left until I'm only a few inches short of a 45-degree angle."

"It's dancing, kid, not geometry." In one fluid motion, smooth as a panther, Morgan got up from the chair in the bullpen he had been occupying and joined Reid at his desk. He knew very well that all the women were watching since it was coffee break and Garcia had joined Prentiss and JJ for a chat. "Turn on the music again."

Bing Crosby and the Andrews sisters' version of "Mele Kalikimaka" sounded through the office, just low enough not to bring Strauss an unexpected Hawaiian Christmas greeting, should she happen to pass by this part of the building. Predictably, Morgan had no trouble at all to adapt to the music. He easily picked up the floating rhythm and moved with it, rolling his waist and hips in elegant clockwise circles.

"He could wear a hula skirt and not look ridiculous", Garcia sighed. JJ and Prentiss could only agree. Actually Derek Morgan in a hula skirt would be a very desirable visual… they would get full view of his chiseled chest… mhhhmm…

"I'm doing the same!", Reid insisted, rolled his hips roughly in time with the music and knocked over the lamp on his desk.

"Huh. Makes me almost want to look at some crime scene photos, to get _that_ image out of my mind." Rossi came walking in, carrying a pile of folders.

Both men stopped. "There you go, Reid. Dancing just isn't you thing." Derek turned the music off.

"Well, maybe not hula dancing." Rossi put the pile of folders down, regretting his, in hindsight, rather harsh joke. The young profiler looked terribly crestfallen. Heavens, he really hadn't wanted to make him sad. "Any reason you wanted to learn this dance in particular?"

Reid looked away rather embarrassed.

"What is it, son?" Rossi moved in closer, his profiler instincts awakening. Morgan studied him with renewed interest, too.

Reid sighed. He knew where this was heading. Once the team got the idea something was on his mind, they wouldn't stop asking till he told them. Better to spill it out right now and save them all a lot of time and energy.

"Hula dancing connects the dancers with the spirit of the universe by unifying their existence with nature. I thought learning that would be…something new… got the idea doing research for an article on Boethius."

"But every form of dancing does that, if taken seriously enough." Rossi hesitated for a moment, then decided that he definitely owed the younger agent some sort of reparation for spoiling hula dancing for him. He crossed the distance between them.

"What other music do you have?" Rossi gave Reid's ipod display a tentative push and the device squeaked. Garcia, watching his every move, winced. Before he could cause any severe damage, however, Morgan interfered and opened the device's menu with a slight brush of his thumb. "What about a Viennese Waltz?", he asked, slight mischief sparkling in his eyes.

"A true gentleman's dance", Rossi replied, unfazed. In an elegant gesture, he extended his hand to Reid. As Reid cautiously took it, he pulled him closer. "A good close hold is the key to the waltz. Now just let the music guide you and I'll help you along with the rest."

A moment later they were turning clockwise around the desks, in time with the music, Reid a little more insecure than Rossi, but all in all surprisingly graceful.

Which was exactly when Hotch showed up. "Do I even want to know?"

Rossi halted in an elegant stop right next to the ipod and took a bow.

"Team-building exercise, Aaron."

Hotch's appearance served as some sort of cue - the whole team proceeded to disappear into the conference room again, with another flimsy excuse to exclude Rossi. Garcia, however, let herself fall behind. "Got some results…", she told him, smiling triumphantly.

Oh, she loved beating the system. Somewhere in her heart she was still a hacker, even after all these years in law enforcement. "Not a match, but sufficient similarities. Must be a blood relation."

Rossi slowly nodded, reading the test result.

"So, what will be your next step?" She studied his face, but it gave nothing away.

"What are you doing this weekend?", he asked.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds and intend no copyright infringement. **

_Mele Kalikimaka is the thing to say…_

With a very determined gesture, Rossi changed the radio station.

"You really don't like this song, do you?" Garcia looked at him questioningly. "That's why you were so mean to Reid in the bullpen, weren't you?"

Outside it was snowing heavily. Wyoming in winter. Darkness had fallen about an hour ago. The car's headlights illuminated rather huge snow banks left and right the road.

"Married my second wife in Hawaii. Under palm trees. Didn't bring us much luck." Rossi squinted. "There's the prison." He pointed at a spot not too far in the distance.

"From here it almost looks beautiful – all the light coming from the windows and the floodlights...makes the building glow like a spaceship."

Rossi couldn't help but think that Garcia had a very special way of looking at things. Finding a positive note even in places of greatest despair, such as the federal prison they were about to visit.

... ... ...

"What cha want from my sister? She done anything wrong?" The prisoner they had asked to talk to didn't look as badly as Garcia had expected, judging from his criminal record. His hair had apparently been combed with a wet comb, he was shaved and he wasn't smelling. She had definitely seen and met creepier persons. But she didn't like his tone.

Neither did Rossi.

"You sound like you wouldn't mind her getting into trouble", Rossi stated.

"Little Miss Perfect? Oh, I'd so enjoy seeing her ass in the joint!" The man's face was distorted with a variety of feelings. Rossi could make out contempt, definitely, but also… sadness. Pain?

"So you haven't heard from her lately?", he asked.

Now the man's face darkened. "Depends on what you mean by "hearing from her". She sends me stuff. Shower gel. Shampoo. Shaving foam. Regularly, like clockwork. But do you think she'd enclose a letter? Or maybe call? I've been sitting here for years, man, and she hasn't bothered visiting me once. Says I got what I deserved… Don't want to see her anyway!"

Rossi could see that his words were having an impact on Garcia. She was able to look behind the tough façade he was putting up. "Even in places of greatest despair…", he thought again.

To their great surprise, however, the man had an address for them – _Olivia Catrell, Stonehampton Institute for Women, Idaho. _

"It's a rehab center." Garcia checked it as soon as they were in the car. "Known for its strict rules and regulations. Run similar to a military academy." She shuddered. Their latest encounter with that kind of school had been everything but pleasant.

"What's their success rate?"

"Neither above nor below the national average. Apparently Olivia first came there as a patient and then, after successful treatment, stayed as a social-educational instructor. Wow, she even enrolled in a couple of community college courses to get a degree and now seems to manage the whole thing." Garcia quickly scrolled through her file.

"Sounds like she was able to get a grip on her life." Rossi carefully steered the car through the thicker and thicker falling snowflakes. "Sounds like we're both spending our Sunday at home."

"Wait, you want to go back to Virginia tomorrow? Not to Idaho?" Garcia couldn't believe it.

"She seems to be doing okay - keeps a healthy distance from her scumbag brother, has a job, even helps other people, at least sort of. Sounds good enough to me. No need to wake sleeping dogs, Garcia. We'll both enjoy our Sunday at home." He turned on the radio, clearly indicating that this conversation was over.

Well, maybe as far as he was concerned...

The hotel where they had to stay the night was nothing fancy. In that area, "fancy" wasn't really an option, people who stayed the night in that part of Wyoming HAD to stay the night, travelers who had no other choice but to stop for a couple of hours before they could go on, homewards or elsewhere bound. No need to build a fancy hotel for them.

The heater in Rossi's room wasn't working. Rossi consoled himself with the fact that they at least offered a decent selection of TV programs. He was in a bit of a strange mood. Was it the little tiff with Garcia in the car that upset him? She had a way of looking at you... despite those geeky glasses and ridiculously colorful outfits they bore right into you. An indicator what kind of a person was behind that façade...

"Indicator"? Dio mio Rossi, once a profiler, always a profiler..._  
><em>  
>Not really sure what had triggered it, except maybe the low room temperature, he decided to watch a movie for the definitely adult audience. Glancing at the titles, he randomly chose something with stewardesses in it, made the purchase and then leaned back against the bed's headboard. Looking forward to a comfortable evening, he activated the movie...<p>

…and found himself face-to-face with a group of what looked like hula dancing mid-western housewives. _"Mele Kalikimaka is the thing to say..."_It looked like a YouTube clip, someone's home video of his wife's performance at a Christmas party. Quickly Rossi changed the channel.

And was looking at more hula dancers.

He zapped through all channels available.

Nothing but hula dancers!

Snorting like a battle horse, he stomped out of his room and straight to Garcia's door. "You don't happen to know why all the hotel's digitally provided TV programs show exactly the same hula dancing housewife troop?"

Garcia stood in front of him, leaning against the doorframe in a pink nightgown with a huge yellow sun on it. "Are you implying, Mr. Profiler, that I have something to do with that?" In the background her computer was making ukulele sounds.

"You tampered with it in a blunt attempt to blackmail me into seeing that woman!"

Garcia broke into bright smile. "Caro, us hackers, we don't blackmail. We manipulate."

"What is so important about that woman? We know she's okay, why bring up bad memories?"

"Because bad memories influence you." Garcia stepped aside and let Rossi into the room. "They lurk in dark corners and emerge on the brightest of days, totally throwing you. Olivia Catrell dug herself out of a grave. We must make sure she got proper treatment afterwards. Even if she seems to be doing okay there's no guarantee she's really alright... and won't come out of retirement after having made a fortune with books, to face the demons of her past in a painful walk down memory lane."

"Why is your room so warm?" Deliberately ignoring the reference to his own past, Rossi looked around, as if Garcia had hidden a blazing fireplace somewhere. "Your heater is working way better than mine!"

"I swear I've got nothing to do with that!"

Did he believe her? Was she telling the truth? The heaters were digitally controlled, too. If she was able to tamper with the TV programs... In the end, however, he struck a deal with her - in exchange for visiting that woman he got to spend the night in her room while she got to enjoy the comfort a warm blanket could only truly provide in a darn cold hotel room with nothing but hula dancers on TV. Of course Rossi hadn't let her touch her computer again before moving out of her room. "It stays here, with me", he had told her. You need rest, for the trip to the institution tomorrow."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds and intend no copyright infringement. **

The Stonehampton Institute looked pretty much like the name implied. A no-nonsense institution in gray and drab. Gloom was covering the place like a black blanket. "You're a little late with the Christmas decorations, are you?" Rossi said as he took in the main building's sparse interior.

The assistant who was showing him around shrugged. "Christmas is the time of gifts. Who comes here has failed miserably in life and doesn't deserve any kind of gift. Thus celebrating Christmas is out of question."

"I guess that goes for appealing interior design, too?" The look on Garcia's face clearly betrayed her disagreement with that attitude. Even the Wyoming prison had emitted a more homely feeling than this bunker.

"And apparently also for food that does more than provide nutrients." Is was a statement, not a question. The smells that were coming from the kitchen weren't exactly encouraging. Both Rossi and Garcia made mental notes not to stay for dinner.

The assistant shrugged again. "Over the years Ms. Catrell has developed a very clearly defined philosophy that has carried this institution far." It sounded as if he had memorized the sentence from a brochure.

The silence in the institute's building was eerie, considering how many people lived there - as the assistant led them down the corridor to Olivia Catrell's office their footsteps echoed back from the bare concrete floor and walls. Carpets were apparently considered an unnecessary luxury. When they knocked on the office's door the sound seemed to reverberate through the whole house. A brief, precise and slightly bellowing "Come in" called them into the room.

Olivia Catrell looked like what the Stonehampton Institute would look like if it were a person Flat shoes, gray clothes, hair tied into a strict bun, not the hint of a smile on her face except for the polite grimace she made when greeting her visitors.

Prior to the meeting Rossi had told Garcia that he wouldn't ask Olivia right away what exactly had made them come all the way to Idaho. "Let me evaluate the situation first." He initiated the conversation with a vague explanation about an old FBI investigation and asked her about her life prior to her arrival at Stonehampton.

"The period you're referring to was a very dark time in my life." Olivia Catrell's face grew even graver than before. "I had failed completely. Too lazy to take up any kind of responsibility, I blamed the world for my problems and used drugs to escape reality instead of facing it. I don't remember much about that time."

"Well, what _do_ you remember?", Rossi asked cautiously.

"I remember I got punished for my failures", she replied, and for the first time something like a real emotion flitted across her face. "I got on a really, really bad trip. Like a horror movie, just ten times worse. The word "nightmare" doesn't even come close to the terror I experienced. After that I had learned my lesson. No more drugs. The fear of ever having to go through such a punishment again has kept me clean."

Garcia threw Rossi an intense look. Deciphering it was not difficult - if Olivia had interpreted her burial by the unsub as a hallucination during a bad trip, and if that thought had kept her clean ever since, had helped her getting a grip on her life, wouldn't it be better not to take that belief from her?

Rossi studied Olivia thoughtfully, the way she sat behind her desk, totally upright, in complete control of herself.

Or, let's put it the other way around, completely controlled by her fear of ever having to go through a horror trip of the kind again that she had experienced so many years ago.

Olivia Catrell was a woman in chains. Invisible chains, wrought of one of the deepest human fears imaginable - the fear of getting buried alive. Rossi admired Garcia's empathy, but this time she was wrong. This woman not only deserved the truth, she _needed _the truth or she would spend the rest of her life as a prisoner. "We came here to tell you something, Ms Catrell", he began.

When Rossi had finished explaining, Olivia at first looked as if she was going to thank them for their time and compliment them out of her office. She shifted in her seat, moved the chair a bit... and then froze. Just froze. For a long time she didn't say anything, didn't do anything except breathe. After a while Garcia was getting concerned, but Rossi stopped her from saying anything with a strict look from his dark eyes. 'Let her ride this out", they said.

"So it was not a punishment after all", Olivia finally whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

_Then _she thanked them for their time and complimented them out of her office.

... ... ...

When the assistant came to pick them up and lead them back to the main building, he had bad news for them. "Snow, tons of snow, came down in the last hour. The roads are impassable, no chance for you to get back to your hotel tonight."

And it got better...

"Unfortunately we're currently renovating our guestrooms. Only one is available at all, and in that the heater is not working. But..." The assistant made an audible attempt to sound cheerful. "...you're lucky. We'll have warm porridge for dinner!"

Rossi blinked for a moment. Stared at the assistant. His stare grew in intensity till the assistant started shrinking into the ground.

"I want a word with the cook", he said.

An hour later the entire Stonehampton community had pasta with tomato sauce for dinner. One of the young women, however, didn't touch her food at all. She just kept looking at it. "Don't you like pasta?" Garcia asked her.

"I don't deserve this", she replied, eyes trained on the plate. "That's good food. Good food for good people. I've got no right to eat this."

Rossi sat down in front of her and slowly pushed the plate closer to her. "Take it as my Christmas surprise gift to you. It would break my heart if you didn't eat it." Hesitantly she looked up. He gave her a smile that made Garcia's knees weak. Heavens, usually only Derek had that effect on her.

"What if Ms. Catrell finds out about the change of menu?", the assistant asked rather panicky. All through mealtime he had kept looking over his shoulder, expecting Olivia to show up and call everything off.

"I'll deal with her", Garcia replied rather grimly.

Rossi couldn't help but smile. Not because her menacing tone was in stark contrast to her cheerful outfit, no. There was nothing funny about the situation. It was the strength that showed in it. She was a damn strong woman.

However, Garcia didn't need to prove her strength that night, at least not in battle with Olivia Catrell. She didn't show up all evening.

... ... ...

The room question turned out not as tricky as the assistant had made it sound when he had first told them about the bad weather. The woman with the pasta suggested they could move a mat from the gym into the guestroom and helped Rossi carry it.

"Do you like it here?", Rossi asked her.

"No, but I think it's what I needed. I was looking for a strict environment with clear rules. Helps me think straighter. It's not bad here, it's just..." She let the sentence trail off.

Rossi nodded. "It could need a little adjustment here and there."

Despite the now two available beds neither Rossi nor Garcia looked terribly much forward to be crammed into one room together. There was only one small window and they both expected the air to get stuffy and, well, smelly from sweat and other odors fast. They slipped wordlessly under their respective sheets. Both doubted they'd catch a wink of sleep, but were fiercely determined not to let the other one know. They screwed their eyes shut and tried to keep their breathing even.

When Rossi opened his eyes again, his watch told him that he had slept for more than five hours. Five hours! A fresh breeze from the open window ghosted over his face like a kiss. The air in the room didn't smell at all and it wasn't stuffy either. Garcia's and his body heat, combined with the open window, provided just the right temperature. Stretching comfortably, he drifted off to sleep again.

When Garcia opened her eyes again, she knew she must have fallen asleep after all. Strange – she didn't like sleeping in unfamiliar beds. The team was used to travelling, they did that all the time, but she preferred to sleep in her own bed.

Alone, by the way.

Kevin did spend the night at her house every now and then, but she preferred him to go home. Having another person in the room, the additional noises and movements, made her nervous. With Rossi, however, it was different. How come…? While contemplating the issue, the soothing rhythm of his breathing sent her back to sleep.

In fact they both slept so peacefully and relaxed, they totally missed the wake up gong that reverberated through the building and called everyone to breakfast.

Okay, they did _that_ on purpose.

When they finally made their way into the main hall, they saw a group of young women apparently getting ready to go outside into the sparkling snow, while another group was sitting round a table, threading popcorn on a string and attaching loops to dried orange slices and walnut shells.

"Christmas decoration?", Rossi asked Olivia Catrell with a raised eyebrow.

"Handicraft is a good training exercise. It helps developing fine motor skills and enhances the level of concentration. Abilities that'll be important once the women leave the institution."

Olivia looked different this morning. The strict bun was gone, she had replaced it with a ponytail.

Rossi let his eyes bore into her, not in the menacing way he sometimes used for unsubs, more in the fatherly way he used for Reid.

"It wasn't punishment", Olivia quietly said. "I had it all wrong. It was a gift. Like a… a giant surprise gift… I was given a new chance." Then she turned around to the waiting women: "Everybody ready?"

"Where are you going?", Garcia asked, smiling. The changes in Olivia Catrell were obvious and it looked like, given time, there was a lot more to come.

"Outdoor team building exercise. We're going to fell a tree!"

Rossi couldn't help but burst out laughing, while Garcia could just stare as the women filed out the door, Olivia Catrell carrying an axe. Finally he wrapped an arm around her slightly slumped shoulders, pulled her to his chest and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Well done, Cara."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds and intend no copyright infringement. **

Come Christmas Eve, a small fleet of cars approached David Rossi's mansion. The wrought iron gate to his driveway was wide open, but there was no light in the house, no sign that anyone was at home. The building lay in perfect silence, a thick layer of snow covering everything like a white blanket.

One by one they got out of their cars and gathered at the steps to his entrance door – JJ and Will had left Henry at his grandparents. Morgan hat picked up Reid and they had arrived together. So had Prentiss and Hotch. To everyone's surprise Garcia appeared alone, although Kevin had explicitly been invited.

"He had a family dinner", she mumbled, and JJ hugged her.

"There's an envelope underneath the doorknocker!" Prentiss, who had seen it first, went to retrieve it. "Huh, looks like your expertise is needed here, Dr. Reid." She handed him the sheet of paper she had found inside the envelope. "Is that a telephone number?"

Reid shook his head. "I think these are coordinates. Look here, longitude, latitude…"

"Did he know we were coming?" Morgan gave Garcia a suspicious look. _"You've spend quite some time with him lately"_, it said.

"I swear I didn't…", she began.

"Our meetings in the conference room were maybe a little too conspicuous after all…" Hotch smiled. Dave was an old fox, it would have surprised him, had they really managed to blindside him.

The coordinates led them back to the area of Quantico, but not to the FBI premises.

"The spot by the lake!" Garcia, who was riding with Morgan and Prentiss now, couldn't believe it. Right there at the shoreline, where she had pleaded for the lives of the beautiful fir trees, she could make out a light, like a fire, burning in a barrel. In the approaching darkness it had the effect of a beacon, leading them home with the flames' warm glow reflected by the pure white snow.

"Glad you could make it", Rossi, wrapped in a thick winter coat, Mudgie by his side, welcomed them as they trudged towards the fire. "Just in time for the inauguration ceremony."

Puzzled faces all around.

Rossi pointed behind his back and there, between the fir trees, was a small cabin that hadn't been there a couple of days ago, when Garcia and Morgan had visited this place.

"I swear not a single tree was felled to make place for it. Mulled wine anyone?"

"Why did you build a cabin here?" Morgan was confused. "Doesn't exactly look like hunting ground to me."

"Well, I figured since I now own this spot I could at least build something that allows me to enjoy the view early in the morning or at sunset. With the lake, it's quite spectacular."

"You've bought these grounds?" The excitement in Garcia's voice was clear as a single church bell ringing through a frosty night in the country.

"None of these trees will ever be touched by an axe", he said, smiling. "Doesn't mean we can't decorate one, though. The big one over there, it's definitely taller than the financial department's. I've brought some stuff, balls, tinsel, lights, but in my age I'll definitely not…"

"You've got a ladder somewhere?" Morgan was already taking off his gloves.

Ten minutes later the team was decorating a beautiful fir tree right next to Rossi's new cabin: "Symmetry is the key to aesthetic appeal – if you moved that red ball an inch and a half to the right…" – "Reid! Not geometry!"

Everyone except Garcia, that is. She stood by Rossi's side, watching the others.

"Thank you", she whispered.

"You're right, the trees here are way too beautiful to be cut down."

Suddenly Garcia started laughing, all thoughts of the trouble with Kevin and their tiff this afternoon wiped clear from her mind. "You know, Mr. grumpy famous bestselling Profiler, there is only one way to thank you properly!"

And then she started singing:

_Mele Kalikimaka is the thing to say…_

She didn't get any further. Gently but firmly Rossi took her by the shoulders, pulled her in his arms and stopped her vocal outburst very effectively by kissing her.

As his beard softly tickled her face and his aftershave began to intoxicate her senses, she vaguely realized in the back of her mind that this would lead to a lot of turmoil – what did it mean? What about Kevin? Where to go from here?

But not right now.

Right now this was a gift. A wonderful Christmas surprise gift. Where it would lead in the end didn't matter. Gifts were meant to be enjoyed and oh, she was going to enjoy this.

~ the end ~


End file.
